


the writer in the dark

by suicxne



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, But Also a Bit of, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, This is basically, and, and also some slight, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicxne/pseuds/suicxne
Summary: Tommy tries to keep memories of war out of his head, controlled and written down neatly on paper. That is until one stumbles through the door of an East London pub on a rainy Friday night, confronting him head on.





	the writer in the dark

The rain hammers against the window of the pub as Tommy slumps inside it. The door slams shut behind him, bell above the frame cackling tin, barely audible over the chatter of men inside that seems thick like mist. The weather and the cold are left outside, just a hint of the bitter breeze sneaking in beside him. 

He fumbles his way through the smokey room towards the bar, it reeks of flat beers and old cigars and he apologises under his breath when he knocks his shoulders and elbows against the other men packed inside it. 

“Pint of bitter, please.” He mutters to the bartender, hands planted on the stained wood of the bar. 

“Worthy? Newcey Brown?”

He blinks, doesn’t know the difference. “Um. Worthy. Please.”

The barman nods, disappearing for a moment and Tommy feels small. Like he’s too young to be in a pub or something. He nearly laughs at himself, too young. After everything he’s experienced. The barman’s back and slides him a pint of amber liquid, neat white foam perfectly lining the rim of the scratched pint glass. Tommy hands him the money, taking his pint and manoeuvring his way through the dimly lit pub in search of a spare seat and a table.

He plants himself down somewhere near the back, tucked away from the rowdier groups of men. More isolated. Quieter. He finds himself seeking out these kind of places more often than not, away from noise and ruckus. Or too many bodies crammed together all at once. 

He pulls his satchel onto his lap, taking his weathered journal and a pen out from inside. It’s not the best place to write but he’s trying this thing where he doesn't let himself get inside his head too much. Where he just pulls out a pen and starts and doesn’t stop until his fingers get cramped or someone tells him to bugger off. It often tends to be the latter first. 

He’s always loved writing, Tommy has. Ever since he was little he’d been making up imaginary worlds in his head, keeping them stored up there until he’d learned to write at school. He’d always written things down he couldn’t say as well. Feelings he wasn’t allowed to express out loud he’d pen down onto paper. Just let them seep out sometimes, separate them from reality almost. It had changed for him after the war, though. Now he’s trying to get his thoughts out of his brain and in to reality. Can’t deal with all these memories, the flashbacks, the nightmares, just _trapped_ inside his head. Has to spit them out, words tinging the paper like they’re specks of hot black ash.It helps. He tells himself. It helps. He lights a cigarette, holding it to his lips and inhaling. Sucking in the smoke, letting it scrape at his throat. Swallowing it down.

His words flow well on to the page, the buzz of the pub and the warmth of the men and the smell of beer all sort fade into a comfortable background hum. He’s been writing a while, only looks up to take a sip of ale every so often. The foam sticks to the brim of his lip and he licks it off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

His pint is nearly empty and he swills what liquid is left around in the glass, watching it move, lazy like. All heavy. He brings it to his lips, still flinching just a little at the taste he isn’t yet fully acquired to. 

“Oi. You.” 

It’s so loud in the pub, so many blokes raising their voices to be heard that he ignores it at first. He puts his pint down, goes back to his writing. Assumes it isn't directed at him. Almost forgets he’s even visible. 

“ _Oi_.”

Something stirs inside him. The voice. It’s familiar. He looks up. Wishes he didn’t. 

The boy grins at him, lopsided and smug like he's gotten his way or something. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, looking down at Tommy with a raised brow. 

“I know you.” He says. 

Tommy studies him for a moment, trying to piece the half stranger together. 

“You don’t remember me, do you? Bloody hell. War’s fucked your memory up to then, has it?”

_War._ That’s when it clicks. Christ. The boy was a soldier. It starts coming back to him and then it won’t stop, flashes of this boy, of this man’s face. 

“Dunkirk.” Tommy blinks up at him.

“Yeah.” He nods, the lopsided smirk is still there but it’s not smug anymore, something else there instead. “Dunkirk.”

“You’re Alex, aren’t you?” He asks but it isn’t a question anymore. He’s Alex, the self serving prick ready to chuck an ally off a boat and to his death because he wasn’t British. He scoffs, shaking his head just slightly. “I remember you.”

“Want another pint?” Alex asks him, nodding at his now empty glass. “What’re you drinking? Creamflow?”

Tommy wants to tell him to fuck off, that he’s busy. Wants nothing to do with him. But there’s something intriguing about the boy stood in front of him now, something that seems so separate to the boy ready to throw a man to his death in the boat. He can’t quite connect the two. 

So instead he nods, pushing the glass and some coppers from his pocket gently towards him. “Ta, mate.” 

Alex takes the glass, pushes the coins back. “S’on me, yeah?”

Tommy just nods, doesn’t know what else to say. “Alright, cheers.”

That’s all it takes for Alex to pick up Tommy’s empty pint glass and make his way back to the bar. In the lack of his presence Tommy slumps back into his seat, letting out a heavy breath that feels like a weight he’s been propping up with his shoulders. He shuts his notebook, stuffing it back in his satchel. He should run. Leg it out the door of the pub and into the rain. Walk as fast as he can so he can avoid making awkward small talk with someone he only knows through a shared experience of indescribable awfulness. But there’s something that makes him stay. 

Alex’s hair has grown longer, reaching down to his chin and resting behind his ears. It makes his face look softer, more rounded. More feminine. And it’s strange to see him in clothes, a white shirt and trousers. A beret instead of a helmet and braces where he remembers seeing a lifejacket. It makes Tommy think, how perhaps there’s a detachment between someone at war and that same someone inside a pub in East London on a rainy Friday evening. 

Before he can think about any longer Alex is back, he pulls a stool from the table to next to him and plants it opposite Tommy, handing him his beer and placing his own on the table between them. 

“Thanks.” Tommy says, picking up his pint.

“Pleasure.” Alex tips his glass towards Tommy’s, clinking the brims together. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” He repeats, gulping the liquid down. Faster than before.

Alex swallows a mouthful, inhaling through his teeth as it slips down his throat and Tommy watches him over his own pint. It’s almost painfully obvious, the difference in him. He can see the way his hands shake, how the beer in his glass swirls around every time he picks it up. How he keeps looking out of the corner of his eye for something that never comes. Someone drops a glass and it shatters on the wooden floor, noise of it startling them both. Tommy flinches in his seat and can’t help but catch the way Alex does too. And that makes him wonder if Alex sees him the same way. Just a broken shell of what used to be there before. A quivering, nervous wreck. 

He can’t bare the silence any longer so he speaks. His voice shakes just slightly, still on edge from the smashed glass. “What’re you doin’ in London?”

Alex shrugs, “Live here, don’t I.” He swallows down a mouthful of beer. “Renting a room a few minutes away from here. Yourself?”

Tommy pauses, gives himself time to think of a lie but finds himself offering up the truth instead. “I write. Came down here on the train yesterday, going around publishers. Trying to find someone who wants my stuff.”

He’s expecting Alex to scoff. A sarcastic _good luck with that_ or something about how writing is for ponce’s, but he doesn’t get it _._ Instead Alex’s eyes light up, just slightly. He nods “Yeah? Kind of writin’?”

“Erm—“ He shrugs, finds himself embarrassed all of a sudden. “I don’t know. Different things, really. Short stories. Bit of poetry. First hand accounts of stuff, just everything, really.”

“You any good then?” His smirk is back, Tommy didn’t realised he’d missed it. 

“I’m…alright I suppose.” He offers, feeling himself blush slightly. Shrugs again. “Not too bad.”

“Got any on you?” 

He could say no. _Nah, sorry mate._ Simple as. But he doesn’t. Instead he’s nodding, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his journal. “Some thing’s I’ve been working on in here.” Alex takes it from him, “Careful. Lots of loose pages.”   
He watches as Alex’s eyes scan the page, tracks the motion of them, tries to figure out what bits he might be reading. Tommy can’t read his facial expression at all, gives nothing away. He's stoic, almost, brow furrowed as he concentrates on the words in the dimmed light. And then he speaks.

“You must be fuckin’ mental.”

Tommy blinks, “What?”

“You really write about the war? You put yourself through that twice?”   
“It’s just—“ He goes to explain but Alex interrupts. 

“I can’t sleep at night, y’know that? Can’t sleep ‘cos I’m reliving what you’ve written here. ‘Cept you’re doin’ it voluntarily. I can’t bloody control it.”

“It helps me.” He wants to snatch the book back, but Alex keeps reading it. “It helps me, getting it out of my head. I had nightmares too, I still do. Not like I can control it either, but writing it down helps me make sense of it. S’all.”

Alex shakes his head, grin playing on his lips that makes Tommy slightly uneasy. “Absolutely mental you are.”

Tommy’s forgotten pint sits on the table and he takes a swig of it, heavy bitter taste matching the atmosphere of the room. “Yeah, well. We all are now, aren’t we?”

Alex looks up at that, laughs, just once from the corner of his mouth. “You got that right.”

He lights another cigarette as Alex keeps reading his journal, “You want one?” Tommy offers him the pack, Alex nodding as he takes one, pulling his own zippo from his pocket and lighting up. 

He doesn’t know where to look, feels like he should stop watching Alex so intently, but can’t quite manage it. He angles the smoke he exhales away from Tommy, purposeful. He can’t help but think the Alex he knew in Dunkirk would’ve blown it straight back into his face. 

He’s gotten skinnier too, bulk of muscle that sat on his body before seems to have just fallen off of it. Alex watches him scrape at the corner of the journal to turn the page and he sees how his fingernails are bitten right down, enough that it looks painful. He feels the sting in the tips of his own fingers, nails chewed and raw just the same way that Alex’s are. It makes him feel like a kid, bitten fingernails. Makes him think of his mum, how’d she’d always be telling him off for it. Hitting his hand away from his mouth with a tut. Wonders it brings back similar memories in Alex, if anyone’s ever cared for his wellbeing like that. 

“D’you live by yourself?” He can’t help but ask.

Alex doesn’t answer immediately, looks up from the words Tommy's written almost in slow motion. “Yeah. What’s it t’you?”

He shrugs, “Just wondering. Not got a family then?”

There’s a silence, one that’s palpable. That hangs in the air for moment. Alex lets a stream of smoke leave through his nose, expression unreadable. “No.” He says finally, and that’s that.

Tommy doesn't know why he’s pushing his luck. “What about a bird?”

Alex chuckles at that, low in his throat. A grin pulls at the corner of his lips, “No.”

He nods, takes a sip of beer. Wipes his mouth with his hand. “No, me neither.”

Tommy feels hazy, warm like he’s wearing too many layers for the hot interior of the pub and he can’t help wishing he’d bumped into Alex in other circumstances. It’s strange, it’s been almost a year since the war ended. Almost five since the Dunkirk evacuation. This is the first he's seen of Alex since. He remembers that train ride across the English countryside, it feels like a dream now but he remembers it in his head. How he’d sat opposite Alex, head pounding, resting against the cool glass of the window. How at first, Alex couldn’t even bring himself to look outside when they pulled in to the station. How he was so completely convinced they would be hated. That the country would be embarrassed that they’d run away from battle. ‘Cowards, they’ll call us. _Cowards.’_ Tommy had been struck by how the thought hadn’t even entered his mind. How he’d been so caught up in getting back home and being alive that he hadn’t even thought twice about what his country might think of him. 

That moment had stuck with him, up until then he’d thought of Alex as being selfish. Caring about himself and his own survival more than anything else. Yet here Tommy was, so preoccupied in putting his feet back on English soil that he hadn’t given a second thought to what anyone else might think of him. Of whether or not he’d let his country down. 

From that moment, Alex had become something interesting to him. Something more than what he’d seen of him in battle. He was sure he’d see Alex again, that they’d fight other battles together, at the same posts, the same boats, same beaches. But they didn’t. They’d gotten off at the station, separated in the commotion and celebration and that was the last Tommy saw of him. Until now. He’d thought about him often, the boy on the beach. And here he was, sat in front of him, cradling a bitter and smoking one of Tommy's cigarettes. He can barely believe it.

“You’re talented.” Alex speaks, almost making Tommy jump. “This is all really good.”

Tommy bites back a smile, shrugging off the praise. “Oh, thanks. It’s alright, I suppose.”

“Better than what I could do.”

“Nah—“

“Honestly. It is. I can't ever get it into words like you do.”

Tommy looks at him, raises an eyebrow slightly. “You write?”

He shrugs. “Not like you, not all…professionally. I…” He seems on the edge of something, like he wants to say it but his mouth won’t quite let him. “Tell you what. Come back to mine for a minute, I’ll show you.”

Tommy blinks, stumping his cigarette out in the ashtray, watching the orange embers fizzle out into black ash. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods, “It’s grim in here anyway. Load of old blokes and shit beer.”

He grins back at him, downing the last of his pint, watching him do the same. Alex passes him his journal back over the table. 

“Here.”

Their fingers brush slightly as Tommy takes it from him, pushing it back into his satchel. Slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Alex stands up and he’s smaller than Tommy remembers, can’t help wondering if there’s any part of him the same or if it’s all left washed up on the beach at Dunkirk. He follows him out of the pub, winding his way through bodies and stools and tables until they reach the door. Alex holds it open for him. And then they’re outside. The rain still lashing down, hitting the cobblestones and ricochetting back up again. The wind whips and neither of them have a coat, “S’not far.” Alex says, voice muted slightly by the noise of the weather.

“Alright.” Tommy nods, “Lead the way.”

 

*

 

They don’t walk for long, but the rain doesn’t let up the entire way. They don’t speak and Tommy finds himself wondering what he’s doing. One of his boots has a hole at the bottom and the water on the cobbles soaks his sock through. 

“Jus’ here.” Alex murmurs, fumbling in his trouser pocket for a key as they stop outside a townhouse, squashed in between a row of identical buildings. His fingers shake, just so, as he turns the key in the lock and pushes the heavy door open. “Not the nicest place ever, I share it with a few housemates.” He says as he toes out of his shoes, prompting Tommy to do the same. “Got a room to meself upstairs though, got a bay window and everythin’.”

Tommy offers him a soft smile, glances around the hallway. Thankful for the way it’s shut the wet and the wind outside and the gale isn’t whipping past his ears anymore.

“C’mon.” Alex calls at him, already a few paces up the stairs. “Y’just gonna stand there, or what?”

Tommy swallows, kicking his shoes neatly under the telephone table before following Alex up.

Alex’s room is almost how he expected it to be. A bed in the corner with a dusty looking white sheet, unmade. A desk covered in papers, askew and strewn in no particular order. Frayed rug on the floor, offering some insulation and warmth that the wooden floorboards don’t. And there’s the bay window he’d mentioned. An ashtray sits on the windowsill, stuffed full of cigarette butts from where he must sit, smoking out through his window. It’s dark outside now, only an orange glow from a streetlamp outside seeping it’s way into the room through it and reflecting on the unfurnished wall opposite. 

The smaller wall in the corner is covered in newspaper cutouts and at first Tommy can’t make out what they say. His heart sinks a little when he squints enough to read the headlines. 

 

_ **CABINET READY FOR LONG WAR: WILL WIN AT ALL COSTS** _

 

_ **VICTORY! NAZIS REVEAL SURRENDER TO WESTERN ALLIES** _

 

_ **VE-DAY, IT’S OVER IN THE WEST** _

 

 

There’s one that makes his stomach churn, leaves him feeling peculiar.

 

 

_ **DUNKIRK DEFENCE DEFIES 300,000. FOURTH FIFTHS OF B.E.F SAVED** _

 

 

He swallows, clearing his throat. “It’s a nice room.”

Alex shrugs, fumbles around at his desk for a moment, piling up his papers. “Nicer now you’re in it.”

Tommy feels his eyebrows practically shoot off his forehead at that. Stands there in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do with his arms.

“Look like you seen a ghost.” Alex chuckles at him as he turns around, brushing his hair back from his face. “Sit down, I’ll show you that stuff I was tellin’ you ‘bout in the pub.”

He’s let his braces lip off of his arms and the rain has soaked his white shirt through, turning it slightly transparent. Tommy can see a scattering of dark tattoos underneath it, can’t remember noticing any at Dunkirk. Supposes he wasn’t really focused on what Alex looked like underneath his clothes then, scares him slightly that he is now. 

He sits himself down at the foot of Alex’s bed, watching him drag a heavy trunk out from under the desk in the corner. 

“Don’t give me a hand whatever you do.” Alex scoffs, sarcastic as anything.

It pulls Tommy out of his head and he laughs softly as he stumbles over, placing his hands on the wooden trunk and helping Alex tug it into the centre of the room. 

Alex opens it up and it’s full to the brim with papers, notebooks, more cutouts. They’re scattered, no particular order he can make out but he watches Alex rifle through it, clear goal in mind. 

“Here,” He says, pulling out a stack of slightly crumpled papers bound together with loosely tied string. His demeanour changes just a little, to something Tommy doesn't remember ever seeing on him before. A slight reluctance, embarrassment almost. He looks vulnerable and a million miles away from the boy he remembers him being on the beach. 

They sit back on the bed and Alex drops the papers in Tommy's lad with a thud. “They’re not like yours, not…fancy.”

“That’s okay.” Tommy says, voice soft. Fingers smoothing over the thin paper, ink etched into it, messy handwriting. 

He swallows, chances a quick glance at Alex before he starts reading. Their eyes catch, linger for a moment and Tommy feels some sort of pang in his stomach. Like he wants to reach out, place a reassuring hand on Alex’s knee, squeeze his fingers gently. It's odd. He doesn’t. 

He begins to read, it’s a letter. _“My dearest Emily,”_

He wonders who Emily is, can’t bring himself to ask though. 

 

‘ _It’s been exactly a year since we last saw each other. Can you believe it? I bet you look much different now, I wonder if your hair has grown, long like you wanted it to. If you can tie it up into a bobble or not. And I bet you’re tall, won't be long before you’re catching up to me. I’ve been writing you for a year now, that’s three hundred and sixty five letters. A few more actually. See, I keep the ones I like the most, for when we meet again. Just incase you misplace them, incase they get lost somewhere. I know what you’re like, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on. I’ll read them all to you when we’re together again, or maybe you can read them yourself. It's mad to think not even three years ago you couldn’t have a read sentence had it slapped you square in the face. I told you the countryside would treat you well. Better than I ever could have done here. I hope you know that, Emily. I hope you can forgive me. Although I shan't blame you if you can’t. I miss you every day, my dear._

_Sending you all the love from London,_

_Alex.’_

 

Tommy can’t take his eyes away from the paper for a moment, wants to, but can practically feel Alex’s gaze on him and doesn’t know how to look at him anymore. He swallows, clearing his throat, praying his voice won’t shake when he gets it out. “Alex, this is…it’s…lovely.”

He keeps his eyes on the papers, shuffling them carefully, page after page of scribbled handwriting. Each addressed to an Emily, all signed with an Alex. It feels so _intimate,_ so _private._ Like this is something for just Alex and this Emily, yet here Tommy is, rifling through it. It's been bloody _years_ since he last saw Alex, it’s not even like they’re friends.

He can feel the heat from Alex’s body next to him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder almost. And he has turn his head, has to look him in the eye finally and ask. “Why?”

Alex quirks an eyebrow. “Why what?”    
“Why’re you showing me these?”

He shrugs, “You showed me yours.”

“But these are different.” Tommy shakes his head. “They’re so…personal. This, this Emily girl? She’s your—“ He pauses for a moment, “Your daughter?”

Alex doesn’t answer right away, just looks right into Tommy’s eyes like he’s searching for something he won’t allow out through his mouth. His lip curls upwards, just slightly. “Don’t be daft.”

Tommy blinks back at him, quiet voice. “Then who?”

“Little sister, innit.”

He isn’t sure how to respond, almost taken aback by his answer. Almost like he never thought about Alex as person before, someone with a life outside of War, with someone to live for. Someone to die for. “What happened to her?”

Alex lets out a breath, stretches his arms out behind him on the bed, shifting his weight. “You want the whole sob story then?”

Tommy just nods.

“Parents died. Dad worked in the mines, dust explosion down the pit took him out first. Mum was a nurse in the infirmary, ended up contracting some nasty virus from a patient that the doctors couldn’t fight off. Just me and my sister after that, Emily.” 

He speaks like he’s reading a script, like the words are some mundane monologue. Tommy thinks perhaps he’s numb. Perhaps he has to be. 

“She’s little, see. Eight years old when the War started. We were living in the middle of London so she was evacuated to some place in the country. And I was sent off to fight. She didn’t want to go, didn’t want me to go. Cried her heart out at Paddington station, made a right scene.” He scoffs at that, gentle, almost like it’s a fond memory. “And I told her, I said, _it’s my duty_. I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to protect you, see.That’s how I got through it, I reckon. Kept telling myself I had to do it, for her. That I had to get back, couldn’t leave her in the bloody country milking cows and sheering sheep for a living.”

Tommy can hear his voice getting strained in the back of his throat, how there’s something behind his words now. He’s twisting a ring on his finger, jittering his leg as he speaks. “S’funny, how it ended up. Us winning the war, but her still living out there.”

He looks at Tommy for the first time in a while, his eyes are damp, Tommy catches the glisten of tears in the glow from the streetlamp. 

“It was for the best.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. “I got letters, from the family that took her in. They’re bloody _rich_. Own their own farm, acres of garden, enough money to get her a tutor. Send her to school. And she’s _safe._ Bloody hell, safer than she’ll ever be over here. With me.”

Tommy can’t bare it, places a hand over Tommy’s, half expects him to bat it away. He doesn't. 

“I think she hates me sometimes, you know? Thinks I don’t want her, that I'd rather be without her. I write to her almost every day but how am I meant to know if she ever reads them?”

“She reads them.” Tommy tells him, says it with sincerity like he has any idea at all. “She knows, she must do.”

Alex doesn’t speak, Tommy swallows. Lightly squeezes at his hand and that’s all it really takes for Alex to crumble under his touch. 

He breathes in heavy on a hiccup, one hand in Tommy’s, the other rubbing at his eyes. “M’sorry. God, I don’t—“

“It’s alright.” Tommy coaxes him, hushed voice, running a thumb over Alex’s knuckles. “There now, it’s alright.” 

He’s trying his best to comfort him, doesn’t know what else to say apart from “It’s alright” when it clearly isn’t. He’s not much of a talker, likes to think he’s soothing though, some sort of presence, a shoulder to cry on. 

And that’s what Alex needs right now, there are real tears falling from his eyes and joining the dampened stains from the rain on the white of his shirt.

“You’re alright,” He whispers, body working before his brain as he cups the back of Alex’s neck, bringing him in to his chest. Letting him in close. Alex’s head rests against Tommy’s sternum and he can feel the chill of his cheek through the material of his shirt, the damp of his eyes turning the fabric dark.

They don’t speak for a while, and it’s strange, how comfortable it feels. How it should be completely out of the ordinary. There’s this man, sobbing in Tommy’s lap. A man he’s only ever known the opposite side of. It is odd, he thinks, how he's now accustomed with Alex’s extremes, yet nothing in between. He’s seen cold, thoughtless instinct escape from inside of him. He’s seen him offer up another mans life in place of his own. Yet here he is now, weeping into Tommy’s shirt. Terrified, not of death, but this time lack of love. No idea what’s really in between.

“Lie back.” Tommy speaks under his breath, soft, less of a command and more of a suggestion. He lets his own body slide backwards onto the bed, bringing Alex down gently with him, holding him as they move together, horizontal now. Him on his back, Alex on his side, head on Tommy’s chest. His fists clutch at Tommy’s shirt, not looking at him. He lets him, just lets him be. He keeps a hand in Alex’s hair, smoothing gently, brushing through the curls that were just wisps back at Dunkirk. 

The table lamp in the corner emits a meek yellow glow, soaking Alex’s skin, tinging him slightly golden. His eyelashes look long and thick, waterlogged with wet tears and Tommy can’t help run his little finger, gentle as anything, over Alex’s eyelid. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, why he’s feeling so soft. Hasn’t had time to think about it so far, about how he’s laying on a bed with a boy, smoothing his hair and stroking at his face. _I’m just comforting him_ , he thinks. _He needs this. Perhaps I do, too._

He swallows, mouth dry, as he takes his hands from Alex’s face. Run’s his fingertips over his shoulder blade, down across his back. Alex doesn’t say anything, hasn’t for a while. He’s been silent, tears tracks drying on his face, breath regulating. Tommy feels his grip tighten slightly on his shirt though. He should stop. This isn’t how men are meant to act. It’s not proper.

It’s like Alex hears his thoughts. “S’been so long.”

Tommy barely catches it at first, just a mumble. “Hm?”

Alex buries his head closer into Tommy's chest, lips dangerously close to touching the bare skin of his neck. “Been by myself for so long.”

It feels almost dreamlike, this state they’re in. Like a drunken dream, hazy and full of cloud. Almost as if they’re frozen here, like this, unable to move. Detached from reality. 

“I know.” Tommy says, whispering it into his hair. “Me too.”

A jolt rushes through his body when he feels Alex’s hand move up his torso, just touching, his palm splayed. Tommy tries to relax, keep his breathing steady. Doesn't want to give too much away with his fast breaths. 

“I just need someone,” Alex whispers, still not looking at him. His hand dances over Tommy's collarbones, sends shivers down his spine when his fingers linger against the taut skin of Tommy's neck. “Just for now.”

He isn’t making sense, words a bit slurred like he’s had much more than just the one pint. It doesn’t make sense, yet Tommy gets it. He moves closer, wriggling his hips on the bed so their bodies are lined up. Alex’s fingertips are still cold from the weather when he rests them against Tommy’s jaw. Almost makes him jump. He can’t help but hold his breath as Alex’s fingers move back along his jawline, past his earlobe, making their way into his hair. He lets his head tilt back slightly, revelling in how Alex pulls a little, winds the lose strands around his fingertips.

Before he knows it the words slip past his lips and there’s no taking them back. “Look at me.” 

God, it feels like a lifetime. Like Alex hasn’t met his eye in forever, and now he’s craving it. Needs to see it, the vulnerability he knows is still there. 

Alex tilts his head up, staggered movements and it seems to take a lifetime before their eyes meet. His pupils are blown out, green he never noticed to begin with swallowed up by the black abysses. Tommy hears him swallow, watches his throat bob with the movement. 

They’re so close, inches away from each other. Tommy laying flat and Alex hovering over him, a hand in his hair, thumb resting at his jaw. 

It’s like he has pins and needles all over his body, little sparks of electricity inside him pushing up against his skin like they’re trying to get out. He wants Alex to drop his weight, to put his body on top of his. To ground him, weigh him down. Stop him from floating off. 

Neither speak but Tommy notes how Alex is looking at him, eyes dragging their way along his body, tip to toe. He’s got his other hand on Tommy’s hip and he loses his breath slightly when Alex squeezes, feeling him there.

“You’re all skin and bones.” Alex says it like he’s simply stating an observation. 

That makes Tommy chuckle, a comment the Alex he used to know would’ve made. “Hardly made of muscle yourself.” He quips back, rare moment of courage spurring him on to reach and grasp at Alex’s back. “Scrawny fucker.”

Alex lets a laugh escape through his lips and it sounds so good Tommy can’t help but pull him downwards, towards him, closing the gap. Their torso’s are pasted together, Alex propping his weight up with his elbows planted on the bed behind Tommy. God. He should push him away, turn it into something playful. Sit up and act proper. But he can’t, he just wants him closer.

“When's the last time y’kissed a girl?”

The question leaves Tommy out of breath, he’s just lying there. Looking up at Alex, his hair long enough to fall down and tickle at Tommy’s face. He could lie, make something up. But again, there’s something about Alex that makes him want to tell the truth.

He shakes his head, “Never.”

Alex’s eyebrows raise slightly, his gaze is heavy and Tommy can’t help squirm slightly under. “You’ve never been kissed?”

“No.”

The atmosphere drops momentarily, what was heated and hanging over them disperses for a moment when Alex lets out a giggle. “What are you, twelve?”

“Shut up.” Tommy laughs back. “I’m twelve and a half.”

Alex snorts, giving his hip a squeeze again, dragging his other hand through Tommy's hair before resting it against his jaw. “C’mere,” He whisper laughs, leaning in closer. Tommy lets him, feels like he can’t breathe as Alex gets so close that his features blur. His voice drains itself into the thick air around them “Tell me to stop if you want.”

Tommy doesn’t have time to nod before he feels the soft wet of Alex’s lips against his. His stomach drops, fingers clenching into fists as Alex moves his mouth gently, coaxing him into doing the same. For a moment his lips are gone and Tommy could cry, they’re back for one soft peck, then another before Alex pulls back and whispers, “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Is all Tommy can muster, gripping at the back of Alex’s shirt in a bid to pull him back in. “Yeah, please.”

“I got you.” Alex murmurs, almost into Tommy’s lips and Tommy can’t help but realise how their roles have reversed.

Their mouths meet again and this time he tastes sweeter. Still a bitterness of beer and the must of cigarette smoke but there’s something that overwhelms it all. He feels braver now, like he can move his mouth and kiss at Alex's lips. Their lips slide together, slow at first, tasting. Alex’s body rests on top of his and he lets his hands wander over his back, feeling the juts of his shoulder blades and the knots in his spine. He digs his fingers in to his flesh through his shirt when Alex nips at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

Alex bumps his fingers at the bottom of Tommy’s shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in to his trousers. Tommy lets out a heavy breath through his nose, letting his jaw go slack and Alex deepen the kiss. He can’t help buck his hips up slightly when he feels Alex’s fingertips trace across the bare skin of his stomach, light patterns before he flattens his hand and drags it up over his ribcage.

They kiss with a sense of urgency, fast paced now. Alex sucks Tommy’s bottom lip into his mouth, flicking at it gently with his tongue. He squirms under him, trying not to wriggle away from his touch. Can’t get enough of it. 

“Off,” Alex says under his breath between kisses, tone soft and questioning as he fumbles at the hem of Tommy’s shirt. 

All Tommy can muster is a nod, lifting himself up off the bed slightly so Alex can get at him. He holds his arms up over his head, shivers as Alex lifts up his shirt and the chill in the room prickles at his skin. He watches as Alex kneels over him, stripping off his own shirt. Unbuttoning it purposefully, no rush or urgency and it’s driving Tommy mad. He whines softly under his breath, bucking his hips up just a little.

Alex smirks down at him, spreading his palms over Tommy’s bare chest, running them over it and giving him goosebumps. “Eager.”

Tommy feels himself blush, bites down on his kiss plumped lip, breathing staggered. “Drivin’ me mental.” He murmurs, reaching up and pushing the unbuttoned half of Alex’s shirt off his shoulders. “C’mon.”

He almost feels like he needs to go fast, needs to keep riding this adrenaline high. Can’t stop to think about what he’s doing or he’ll get inside his head, stuck there with no way out again. Finally Alex’s shirt is off and Tommy can’t help let out a moan when he brings their bodies together again, his warm skin taking the place of the air chill that was making him shiver. They’re pressed together and everything is hot, their lips fall right back into place and every touch is amplified now there’s just bare skin between them.

Suddenly Alex’s mouth is gone and he’s about to whine for it back, until he feels his lips tracing over his collarbones. Kissing at them gently, moving down his chest. Alex peppers kisses, light and fleeting until he reaches Tommy’s nipple, tracing his tongue around it. 

“God,” He breathes out, hand reaching for Alex’s hair, grasping at it. He didn’t even know this was a thing, that someone putting their mouth there could feel like _that_. 

His hips stutter off the bed completely, stomach jumping when he feels Alex’s mouth on his belly. He’s brought back down by Alex’s hands on his hips, holding him against the bed. Jesus. There’s a slight pause in Alex’s movements as he reaches for the button on Tommy’s trousers. “Yeah?” He asks, looking up at him from under his eyelids and all Tommy can think is _yes yes yes yes, god yes._ “Yeah,” He says instead, slinging an arm above his forehead, anticipation bubbling inside him.

He lifts his hips and Alex unbuttons him, gently tugging them down over his waist. Just leaving him embarrassingly hard in an unflattering pair of old white briefs. 

“Saucepot, you are.” Alex smirks at him, all sarcastic eyeing up his pants. Dancing his fingers over the waistband.

“Shut up.” Tommy whines, feeling himself twitch as Alex gets closer and closer to touching him. 

“This really your first time, then?”

Tommy bites his lip, breathing heavily. “Yeah.”

Alex’s lips curve as he slips his fingers under the hem, pulling them down like its some kind of grand reveal. “I’ll make it good for you.” He utters it under his breath and Tommy can barely hear him over the buzzing in his ears. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tommy can’t help but whine as Alex’s hand wraps around his length and oh my god, Jesus Christ. He’s touched himself plenty of times but it’s nothing compared to Alex's warm hand beginning to stroke him slowly. He squirms under his touch, chest heaving as Alex stretches himself up it. Still working him slow as anything, mouth on his neck now, sucking a wet kiss into the thin skin there. 

“You like it slow?” Alex asks into Tommy's neck, breath hot against his skin. 

He can’t get the words out of his mouth to respond. 

“Hm?” Alex murmurs, quickening his pace and Tommy feels like he’s getting close already. “This how you do it when you're touching yourself?” He’s asking like he genuinely wants an answer and Tommy can’t speak, can’t even _think._

“Yeah, I— _god._ Yeah.”

Alex rubs his thumb over the head and Tommy can practically feel sparks shoot us his spine as his strokes get faster and faster. He can’t keep still, squirming under Alex’s touch, fingers clenching in his hair. He loosens his grip and feels like he’s going to float off the bed when Alex moves his mouth down Tommy's body, kissing his way down his chest, open mouthed and wet.

He feels absolutely mad, the sensation of Alex’s lips mouthing at the bottom of his belly, inches away from his cock. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before. Almost feels like he never will be again.

His breath catches in his throat as Alex takes him into his hand once more, holding him still, hovering his mouth. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose, keeping him in suspense. Making him think about what it’s going to feel like before he does it. Almost expects him to utter _ready?_ Perhaps a countdown from five. 

He gets so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost misses the moment it happens, where Alex’s lips part and all he can feel is wet hot heat all around him. “Oh my _god_.” He can feel his entire body twitch, all his hairs stand up on end as Alex takes him into his mouth. He’s got his lips wrapped around him tight like a vice, sinking down all slow, holding his base steady. 

“Bloody hell,” He’s babbling, doesn’t know where to put his hands, what to do with his body. Can’t feel anything but Alex’s mouth on his cock and his tongue lapping at the tip.

He pulls off for a second, keeps jerking him with his hand. Looks up from where he's almost sprawled across Tommy. “You like it?”

Tommy lets out an exasperated breath, missing the feel of his mouth already. “ _Obviously_.”

“Feel even better than you'd imagined, yeah?”

You cocky _shit,_ Tommy thinks, you arrogant prick. Wants to say it but he wants Alex’s mouth on his dick more than he wants it spouting snarky comebacks.

“ _Alex,_ ” He whines, rutting his hips upwards. “Shut up and suck me off, would you?”

That makes Alex snort, grins as he shakes his head with some sort of affection. He splays his palms and runs them up Tommy's sides, bringing one back down to steady himself as he parts his lips and gets on with it again. It feels even better than it did the first time.

He can barely open his eyes, can hardly bring himself to look down at Alex’s face. How his lids are shut gently like he's resting, a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead and his lips plump and wet.He’s got a steady rhythm going, taking him right into his mouth, fist covering the inches he can’t quite get too. Tommy doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but it’s absolutely mind blowing. Like nothing he’s ever felt and then he finds himself gasping, gripping at the sheets when Alex does something with his mouth he hasn't done before. 

And then he thinks. For a moment pulls himself out of his head and his bliss and all-encompassing pleasure and he wonders, is Alex going to fuck him? Is that what’s going to happen here? He’s not going to last much longer if Alex doesn’t take his mouth off him soon and now he’s thought about it he can’t stop. Alex on top of him, pressing into him, not stopping. 

It’s that that spurs him to reach down, hand shaking as he puts it under Alex's jaw, lifting him up and whining at the way he slides his mouth off of him. 

He grips at Alex’s bicep, tugging him upwards on top of him again, connecting their mouths. It's all lose and languid and Tommy can taste himself on Alex’s tongue and _fuck._

They break apart and Tommy is so out of breath, completely overwhelmed. He looks Alex right in the eye, holding him by his neck. He breathes out, biting his lip. “Are we gonna have sex?”

Alex really laughs at that, a throaty cackle straight from the back of his mouth. But it’s not nasty, just endeared. “Did I imagine me having your dick in my mouth, then?”

Tommy curls his lip into a grin, lets his legs slip open a little. “I mean like, proper sex. Like, fucking.”

He watches Alex’s eyes glimmer just slightly at the word, his voice dropping lower when he speaks. “You want that?”

Tommy nods almost instantly, " _God_ , yeah.”

“Mm,” Alex lets out, curling himself forward, flattening himself on top of Tommy, kissing at his neck. Tommy’s cock presses against the skin of Alex’s stomach and it feels like any contact is enough to send him over the edge. 

Alex moves off him, slowly, kissing his way down until he’s kneeling over him. Unbuttoning his own trousers. “You’re sure?”

Tommy stretches, resting his palms in the groove under Alex’s ribs. Has never felt more sure. “Yeah, please.”  
He can feel his mouth dry, tongue heavy as Alex nudges his trousers past his waistline. He’s kneeling over him in his briefs and Tommy can see where his cock is straining against the fabric. Jesus christ, that’s his doing. That’s because of him.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches Alex, just propped up there, fucking _touching_ himself. A hand in his briefs, stroking himself, eyes dark and hooded. Tommy can’t help it, wants to touch.

He reaches up, batting at Alex’s hand. “Let me.”

Alex’s eyebrows raise at that. Almost like he's surprised. “Alright." He takes a hold of Tommy’s hand, guiding him, placing it where he wants it. Tommy expects to freeze, perhaps to freak out. He doesn’t. Just wraps his hand around Alex like it’s normal, like it’s natural. Touches Alex the way he likes to touch himself.

It seems to have the right affect, Alex’s eyes fluttering shut and him breathing out a shaky “ _yeah._ ” The angle is a little awkward and Tommy props himself up on his elbow, getting a better hold of him, taking him nice and steady. 

“ _Fuck_ , like that.”

Tommy's watching him fall apart above him and it’s nothing like he ever expected. Never in a million years thought he might have seen Alex like this. Open and vulnerable and letting himself go. Can’t quite believe his eyes.

“Tom, _”_ He exhales. _Tom. “_ Not gonna last," He bites down his lip. “Fuck, wanna fuck you.”

All Tommy can do is nod, letting his hand slip back and he almost misses the weight and the warmth of Alex inside it. 

“I’ll get a johnny.” Alex’s voice shakes slightly as he manages to stand up off the bed, leaving Tommy naked and sprawled out. Feeling practically otherworldly already. He lies there as Alex rummages through his drawers, doesn’t feel real. Like it isn’t really happening. He's about to have sex with a bloke. With Alex the bloody prick from Dunkirk. He can’t help lazily touch himself as Alex opens and shuts drawers in the almost dark room, keeping himself hard and taking the edge off reality a little.

“Here.” Alex’s voice comes, he’s completely starkers now, chucks a tub of something and an unopened condom at Tommy on the bed.

“S’this?” He asks, grabbing the tub.

Alex snorts, cutting himself off with a sharp intake of breath as flops back onto the bed, sprawling himself over Tommy’s chest. “Don’t tell me you’ve only ever had dry wanks.”

Tommy just looks at him, this absolutley mystery figure close enough to kiss.

“Lube. Get you nice and wet, yeah?” 

He's about to say something, doesn’t know what yet but never gets there anyway. Alex bringing their mouths together, hungry and fast and something close to desperate. Their bodies move in sync, gently rocking as they kiss and the anticipation is almost too much to handle. 

They break apart, Alex reaching for the lube, popping the lid open, coating his fingers in the stuff. “Put your knees up.” He tells him and Tommy doesn’t even think for a second before doing what he’s told. Alex is settled between his legs, leaning over him again and he could get used to this, Tommy thinks. Any thought dissolves into white noise as Alex mouths at his neck, sucking what feels like a bruise into it, the soft of Alex’s stomach rubbing against Tommy’s cock.

“Oh my god,” He whines, the words slipping out of his mouth as he feels the pad of Alex’s finger rub between his legs. His entire body shivers when he feels Alex press it inside him, just so, just feeling.

“Y’alright?" Alex whispers into his neck. “This alright?”

“Don’t stop.” Is all Tommy can muster, voice completely shot. “ _God_.”

Alex pushes in further and for a moment it hurts, the way he’s stretching around him. And then it doesn’t. Then it’s just all around bliss, Alex’s other hand wraps around his cock, pushing him past the pain and straight into pleasure. 

He’s gasping, can’t help the little whines and high pitched sighs that slip past his lips. Can’t help the moan that sneaks it way out when Alex adds another, opening him up. Fuller and fuller. His fingers dig into the sheets, scrape at Alex’s back, push through his own hair. It’s so much he doesn't know what to do with himself. And they're barely getting started. 

He stretches his legs further apart like he’s trying to coax Alex in, just wants him all over him, everywhere all at once. His toes curl and his knuckles whiten when he feels Alex curl his fingers inside him, pulling something out of him he never knew was inside to begin with. “Jesus Christ,” He whines, twisting his fingers in Alex’s hair, pulling him in close as he can get. Foreheads touching. “Fuck me.”

Alex winks at him, fucking _winks_. “Thought you’d never ask.” Prick.

Tommy watches with heavy eyes, chest heaving and skin slick with sweat as Alex tears open a johnny, sliding it on to himself. He lets out just one small, barely there moan and all Tommy can think about is pulling more out from inside of him.

Alex’s hands slip under Tommy’s thighs, pulling them up so his knees almost touch his chest. “Like this,” He says under his breath, tone reassuring. “You tell me if it’s too much. If you want to stop.” He sounds gentle, makes Tommy want to kiss him.

Instead he nods, skin twitching, his heart hammering in his chest. Alex leans over him, a hand behind his head, other stabilising himself. Guiding himself in. 

It doesn’t feel like too much at first, almost a numb nudging, but then it’s a push and Tommy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. He hears Alex murmur above him, a soft moan as he slides in deeper. 

Tommy can’t breathe now, can feel himself flailing. Clenching his entire body and feeling it twitch, sparks up his spine as Alex presses into him. Fills him up, stretches him out. And he’s moaning above him, just these high pitched whines, longer and lower every time he sinks in an inch further. _I can take it_ , he wants to say. _Give it to me, I can take it._ He can’t get the words out though, instead lifts his hips off the bed, drawing Alex in closer.

It must make sense because Alex lets himself fall further forward, planting both hands on the bed behind Tommy, a final thrust and he’s there. They both let out moans that mix together, shared bliss of Alex bottoming out and filling Tommy up completely. For a moment they’re still, Alex leaning over him, looking at him like he’s delicious. His hand shakes as he brings it up to touch Alex’s face, brushing a stray strand of hair away and tucking it behind his ear. “Please,” Is he all he can manage, “Now.”

Alex grunts above him, bites his lip as he pulls back and dives deep down into him. Just like he wanted. Jesus Christ.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He breathes out, shaking and slow as he feels Alex move inside him again.

“S’a good boy.” He barely hears Alex say it, it’s under his breath and through gritted teeth but its there and the words go to his head, making him spin. _Good boy._

He can feel him start to pick up a rhythm, steadying his pace, less erratic, more timed. It should feel grounding, familiar. It’s anything but. Each thrust taking him higher and higher until he feels like he’s barely in his body anymore. And then _fuck._ Fuck, Alex’s got his hand wrapped around Tommy's cock. Stroking him steady and in time to his thrusts and it’s so fucking much but still not quite enough.

He finds himself lifting up off the mattress, old springs under them creaking as they move together. Alex moves the both of them, adjusting his weight and altering the angle. It gives Tommy leverage to wrap his legs around Alex’s waist, hooking his ankles behind his back and holding himself in place.

“ _God_ , Alex—“ The new angle is perfect. Lets Alex in so deep, pressing right down into him, hitting a spot inside him that he swears must feel like heaven. His warm breath heats up the thin skin of Tommy’s neck and he’s desperate to have his mouth on his again. 

“Al,” He manages, slipping his thumb against Alex’s jaw, nudging him upwards. He only gets to look at him for a second, cheeks flushed red and teeth marks white against his plump lips, before they’re kissing again and his eyes fall shut. 

He feels absolutely consumed by him, having him all over like this. Inside him and on top of him and kissing him open mouthed. Wet and messy and like nothing he’s ever felt before. Alex thrusts into him, hard and they break the kiss for a moment, moaning into each others mouths. 

He isn’t going to last much longer, can feel himself almost falling off the edge. Alex just managing to hold him back. His whole body is clenched and he’s dying to let go, to have Alex push him over. Wants it so bad but doesn’t ever want to stop what they’re doing now. Feels like he could toe this line for the rest of time, maybe. Live in the vacuum of Alex inside him, pushing him closer and closer, not letting him fall yet.

Alex’s hips are stuttering and Tommy can feel him getting desperate, chasing the pleasure and taking it out on Tommy. Faster thrusts, deeper, each paired with a soft moan that almost seems misplaced. 

“Fuck, Alex.” He barely recognises his own voice. “Please, _ah—“_ He loses his words as Alex rubs at his tip with his thumb, almost sending him into overdrive. He can’t keep still, squirming under his touch and scratching at the skin on his back. “ _Oh my god_.”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes in between a moan, “Gonna come?”

Tommy mewls in response, a high pitched whine he can’t even be embarrassed about. Fuck, God, he feels like he might explode. It’s so fucking much and Alex is still touching him and fucking him and his mouth is all over him. Sucking at his neck and then licking into his mouth and _God._ Oh my _god._

_“Oh,_ god _, Alex.”_

He’s still going, not stopping for a second. “S’it, c’mon.” 

He babbles, just a string of words straight from his mouth out into the air because there's not enough room for them in his body. It’s building and building, every single muscle tensing inside him and it doesn’t stop until he can’t hold it in anymore. 

“ _Fuck_ , oh my god.” Alex hits him with one final thrust and that’s all he needs. Something snaps inside of him and he’s coming. He moans, incoherent. The rest of his body twitching and his hips bucking as he comes. Thick white strips land on his belly and he swears he nearly blacks out as Alex fucks him through it. “Jesus Christ.”

His body feels like jelly, shaking and squirming and he breathes in through his teeth as Alex pulls out, leaving him empty. Alex pulls the condom off, tying it and throwing it somewhere. Tommy watches as he takes himself into his hand, biting his lip and whining as he strokes.

“Alex,” He breathes, surprised he has a voice left. “I'll suck you off.”

Alex is so far gone Tommy doesn't even get a witty response, just flops down onto the bed on his back, letting Tommy have his way.

“You’re so good.” Alex is whispering, voice faltering as Tommy takes him into his hand. “Bloody perfect.”

He’s too absolutely fucked to be conscious about technique or taste or anything else and sucks Alex into his mouth without a second thought. Alex whining, high pitched and breathless as Tommy sucks at the head, jerking the rest with his hand. 

Alex keeps a hand in Tommy's hair, he’s fucking _gentle_ with him. Smoothing the hairs off his forehead and stroking at his jawline gently with the back of his hand. It’s almost serene, a postcoital haze like everything is doused lightly in lavender. He can feel him twitching, see his knuckles turning white where is other hand grips the sheets. Realises he’s stopping himself thrusting up into Tommy’s throat.

He works himself up to taking more of Alex, relaxing his throat and moving his lips steady. It’s not long before Alex’s grip on his hair gets tighter, his moans become more frequent and he can’t help but buck up a few times. 

“M’gonna come.” He breathes out, tucking his palm under Tommy’s jaw and lifting him off.

“S’okay.” Tommy tells him, “Want you to.” And he does. Fuck, does he want to taste him. Have him, all of him in his mouth. 

Alex lets out a moan at that, raising his hips. “ _Fuck._ ”

It’s seconds. Just a few seconds does Tommy have his mouth back on him before Alex is coming. Tommy’s name falls out of his mouth, almost incoherent but he heats it clear as day.

He gets most of it, the salty taste filling up his mouth and throat as he swallows it down. Christ. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible.” Alex’s voice sounds raw, heavy husk. “Oh my god. Come here.”  
Tommy wriggles up the bed, body loose and languid, splaying himself over Alex. The two of them naked and completely and utterly fucked. They don’t move, not for a while. Both of them just lying there, Tommy on his side, arm spread over Alex’s chest. Alex’s arm behind Tommy, smoothing at his neck. They kiss, just lazy, soft kisses. Still messy, open mouthed. But this time gentle.

“Need t’get you a wash cloth.” Alex mutters eventually, eyeing up Tommy’s bare torso. Still messy from earlier. 

Tommy nods, about to push himself up.

“Stay there,” Alex smiles at him, soft. Getting up instead. “I'll get it.”

He grins, looking up at Alex in the moonlight and the orange glow of the table lamp. “Thank you.”

A gentle kiss lands on his lips as Alex leans in again, rubbing a soft circle into his jaw with his thumb. “Don’t mention it.”

Tommy watches him go, picking up a blanket from the chair in the corner, wrapping it around him before slinking into the darkness and out of the bedroom door. It creaks shut behind him and Tommy lets out a breath, body aching and heart still hammering in his chest. He lies there, naked, on Alex from Dunkirk’s bed. All he can do is laugh quietly to himself, just chuckle at where he’s found himself, where he’s ended up. What he’s done.

He doesn’t have much time, a damp flannel landing itself straight on his stomach as Alex throws it at him from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” He says into the dark, picking it up and rubbing it his stomach with it. He can’t help thinking it’s like he’s washing away evidence, cleaning up a crime scene. 

And then the perpetrator bounds his way over to him, dropping the blanket that wrapped around his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor without a second glance. Alex lets himself fall back into bed, curls back next to Tommy without missing a beat. 

“Here,” He’s holding a pack of cigs and a lighter, “I owe you one.” 

Tommy takes one from the pack, throws the flannel to the side and lights up, watches as Alex does the same. He leans over to grab an ashtray from the floor and then they both lie there on their backs, breathing in sync. Alex props an arm behind his head, holding the cigarette with his other. 

It’s quiet, the two of them still sort of in a haze. Tommy’s vision blurs slightly, the dark room and the cigarette smoke like a dusty screen over his eyes. His limbs still shake, skin covered in a sheen of sweat that’s making him chilly. He takes a last drag of his cigarette, stumping it out in the ashtray before pulling at the quilt, tucking his legs underneath it.

Alex looks at him, raising his eyebrows, gentle somehow. Questioning.

“M’cold.” Tommy replies, watching Alex mimic his motion, putting his own cigarette out and slipping under the covers.

Tommy swallows as Alex gets close to him again, extending his arm like an offer for him to dive under, wrap himself up in it. “Here,” He says when Tommy doesn’t move immediately, stretching out further. 

He looks at Alex, really looks at him. At how his hair is all tangled, how it’s slightly crimped where Tommy’s fingers wrapped around it. How his cheeks are still flushed a warm pink, lips swollen and skin shiny. Tommy swallows, breathing out through his nose. “Y’know I’m not…” He shrugs, not looking at him anymore. “I’m not… _queer_ or anything.”

Alex doesn’t speak for a moment, the silence feels heavy and Tommy doesn’t know why he even said it. Why he felt the need to.

“No?” Is all Alex says when he finally replies.

Tommy blinks, “I—“ He doesn’t know what to say.

“You don’t sound too sure.”  
All Tommy wants is to curl up, let Alex throw his arm around him and rub circles into his skin. Leave stray kisses, put his fingers in his hair. 

He hasn't said anything for a while so Alex speaks again. “You liked that, though? What we did?”

Tommy’s nodding, their knees knocking together under the cover. “Yeah.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” 

He looks up at Alex, his throat tight. Wants so badly to believe it. “Is it?”  
Alex swipes his thumb over Tommy’s bottom lip, just a touch. Presses against it softly. “S’not like anyone has to know. Nobody’s going to find out.”

Tommy feels himself ache, pang in his chest at his words and all he can do is place his lips against Alex’s, gentle and tender. Just a touch. His body goes warm again when Alex wraps him in his arms, slipping one under his back and pulling him in close to his chest. Holding him there, all soft as they kiss. 

Tommy can’t wrap his head around it, how what they’ve done practically makes them criminals. How they can lie here together, gentle and pliant in each others arms and be punished for it. How taking other mens lives on the battlefield is worthy of praise, yet this, this innocent act is unthinkable. How the world would prefer to see them within an inch of their lives on the beach at Dunkirk than they would lying here together now. Madness.

They break apart and Tommy lets out a heavy sigh, fanning his palm against the plaines of Alex’s back, smoothing. His voice is low, quiet. “Was meant to catch a train from Waterloo at ten.”

Alex smiles up at him, brushes his jaw with his thumb. “Reckon you’ve missed it.”

Tommy scoffs, “You don’t say.”

“You should stay.” Alex speaks, his words soft. “Stay with me here for a bit. Go ‘round more printing offices with your writing.”

Tommy looks at him, smile quirking at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He replies, that old spark back in his eyes again. “Write about me. Our wild night of passion. Call me Alexandra.”

Tommy cackles at that, elbowing him in the ribs. “You’re an idiot.”  
Alex laughs back, tucking a strand of Tommy’s hair behind his ear. “But really, you should. Stay I mean. Share the room, split the rent for a bit. Got anywhere you need to be back home?”

Tommy shakes his head, he doesn’t. Not really.

“Not secretly got a bird at home, have you?” Alex smirks, “Just playing the inexperienced card?”

He shakes his head again, grin playing at his lips. Completely enamoured.

“Then why don’t I be your bird for a bit. Jus’ for a while. Whilst you’re here. Reckon we could both use the company.”  
And Tommy can’t deny that, not for a second. Can’t deny how much he needs the touch, the closeness of another person. It’s Alex, Alex from Dunkirk. The boy that’s run him through almost every emotion in the book. Yet he still doesn’t even feel close to knowing yet. How can he turn that down? He thinks about his family, he can write his parents letters. Tell them he’s staying a bit longer for work. Wouldn’t exactly be lying.  
“I could stay a week or two, I suppose. Might be good for me.”  
He doesn’t miss the grin spreading across Alex’s face, how his cheeks dimple with it and his eyes glimmer even in the dark room. “Sorted.”

“C’mere.” Tommy half whispers, cupping the back of his neck, bringing him for a kiss again. Slotting their lips together like they fit.

Alex holds Tommy’s chin up with his thumb as they part. Smirk sitting on his lips. “Can’t be making a habit of this you know?”

Tommy has to kiss him again, really can’t resist. “Don’t know if I can help it.”

“You’re not trying very hard.”

Tommy shrugs, winding his fingers through Alex’s hair, still not used to the way it feels between his fingertips. “Don’t really want to.” 

Alex looks at him, bringing their foreheads together before leaning in to kiss him, just one more time. “Mm,” He murmurs, eyes fluttering like his lids are heavy and he wants them shut. “I’d kiss you in my sleep if I could.”

Tommy feels his cheeks turn pink, heating up under Alex’s attention. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

He watches Alex’s lips turn up at that, eyes falling all the way shut. “Promise?”

Tommy leans in, stroking the back of his face with his hand. His skin is soft, warm under his touch and almost gold in the darkened room. So far from the white and weathered skin he’d seen on him before. A entire world away.

He lets his own eyes close, surrounding himself in nothing but black and the warmth of Alex’s body against his. “Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i got the ~idea~ for this at 2am and starting writing it thinking it'd be like 5k words and done in a few days. it's now likd almost a fortnight later and this is somehow 11k words. self control? don't know her.  
> come say hi on tumblr!! mitchtheguitarist.tumblr.com


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